


I'm Not More Than You Bargained For Yet, Am I?

by allthecitylights



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-21
Updated: 2012-11-07
Packaged: 2017-11-14 17:31:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/517759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allthecitylights/pseuds/allthecitylights
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"...He stops as Patrick feels someone standing behind him. That person turns out to be the singer-slash-bassist for Arma Angelus, THE Pete Wentz. What Pete Wentz (no one ever calls him Pete...always Pete Wentz) wants with him, he has no clue."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> just a short thing i wrote tonight, since i had no homework. I hope you all like it.

Arma's an okay band, Patrick has to admit. Though hardcore, screaming, angsty music isn't his favorite, he learns to appreciate the guitars and the difficulty of learning how to scream.

Patrick is hanging around with his friends while the show is between sets and the club is filled with people's chatter as opposed to live music.

"No, they were totally real, I swear to God," Joe says. "Just because they're perky and she weighed, like, 100 pounds--"

He stops as Patrick feels someone standing behind him. That person turns out to be the singer-slash-bassist for Arma Angelus, _the_ Pete Wentz. What Pete Wentz (no one ever calls him Pete...always Pete Wentz) wants with him, he has no clue.

"Uh..hi," Patrick stammers. He feels slightly shaky; even if Arma isn't that great, the singer is quite attractive, with his many tattoos swirling on his arms and red bangs jagged across his forehead. Pete's black-lined eyes crinkle at the corners as he blatantly gives Patrick a once-over. Patrick blushes and Joe wanders off, looking for another girl to hit on, most likely. The 17 year old suddenly feels cornered.

"Hi," Pete replies, a cocky smile on his face. "What's your name?"

"Patrick." The response is shy, Patrick's voice slightly shaky. He tucks a strawberry blonde lock of hair behind his ear, and Pete watches the action, smile widening.

"Patrick," he says softly, like some sort of prayer. Pete puts an arm around the boy, and Patrick feels dizzy when he's hit with the scent of cologne and stale sweat. "Well, Patrick, did it hurt when you fell from heaven?"

Now, Patrick normally isn't one to fall for pick up lines. They're stupid, unoriginal, totally lame, and kinda creepy, even. But Pete is an attractive guy with some kind of musical talent, plus Patrick is a 17 year old bisexual boy with raging hormones, so he just giggles and bites his lip. Pete's eyes widen like saucers.

Pete and Patrick talk for about an hour, mostly about nothing. They hit it off really well, and they end up outside the club, in a dark area, Pete pressed up against Patrick, who's back is against the wall.

"You're really good, by the way. Y'know, in your band."

Patrick can't help but feel like he sounds like a total idiot, but Pete doesn't seem to notice or mind. He's too busy kissing and sucking Patrick's neck, hands roving wherever they can reach.

"Yeah, I guess we're pretty damn good." Pete replies after a bit, voice rough. "Do you play anything?"

Patrick shrugs. "I sing a bit, play guitar, bass, drums, piano...nothing special."

"Nothing special!?" Pete splutters. "Dude, that's..wow. Can you sing for me?"

"Oh..I dunno. What do I sing?"

Pete shrugs. "Anything."

A song pops up in Patrick's head. It's "Let's Get It On" (a song so appropriate for the current goings-on), and as Patrick sings, Pete watches with rapt attention.

After the chorus, Patrick stops.

"I think I just came," Pete says in wonder, and Patrick laughs. The older (who Patrick learned is 23, and apparently has a thing for plump, balding high schoolers who wore tight jeans they shouldn't wear and have no life outside of music) puts his lips on Patrick's, and Patrick's laugh turns into a soft moan. Pete swallows the moan, cups the younger's face in his hands.

"So pretty..." Pete sighs softly against Patrick's mouth, between kisses. "Saw you in the crowd, wanted to do this to you..all night."

All Patrick's brain can come up with is: "Oh yeah?"

Pete chuckles. "Yeah."

Just as Pete puts his hands on Patrick's hips, and Patrick's hands lay on Pete's back, pressing his broad chest closer to him, Joe Fucking Trohman yells in his ear,"DUDE! We gotta go...otherwise your mom's gonna yell at you again."

Pete and Patrick pull apart, Patrick blushing and Pete smiling as if he was in a daze. Their lips are swollen, and Patrick feels like there's a bright sign with the words "SLUT" emblazoned on it above his head.

"Fine," he mumbles. Pete looks at him forlornly.

"Do you really have to go? It's only, like, ten!"

Joe snorts. "Actually, dumbass, it's 12:30. Time for Patricks to get their beauty sleep."

"Hmm..." Pete thinks. "What if I drove him home?"

"If you drove him home he'd get there at 12:30 tomorrow. The walk of shame is never fun."

Patrick blushes for about the 60th time that night.

"What would you know about the walk of shame, Trohman?"

"Nothing," he says, laughing. "Look, dude, I promised your mom I'd get you home on time. Last time we didn't get there she grounded you for a month."

"That's true..." Patrick can't really help his habit of biting his lip, a habit that Pete seems to like very much.

Joe is visibly squirming. "Pete, quit eye fucking him. It's gross."

The two have been friends for years, according to Pete, so Joe is probably half joking, half being serious. Patrick has also been friends with Joe since kindergarten, so he knows that when you get into an argument with Joe Trohman, you're most likely going to lose.

"I guess I'll just go with Joe," Patrick says. Pete looks at him forlornly, and it makes Patrick feel bad.

"Can I get your number, at least? What kind of guy would I be if I didn't ask for your number? I want..I want to take you out on a date sometime soon."

Patrick feels elated. This night is better than he could've ever expected. "Sure."

Someone produces a Sharpie, and Patrick writes his number legibly on Pete's arm. It blends in with the rest of the ink that's already there, and the younger has to fight back the urge to lick the tattoos and see if they taste different than the unmarked skin. He makes a mental note to do this at a later time, if possible.

Before Joe can drag him off, Patrick gives Pete one more kiss.

"It was nice to meet you, Patrick.."

"Stump," Patrick supplies. "And it was nice to meet you, too, Pete Wentz."

Pete smiles warmly as Patrick says his name. "You never answered my question."

"What?"

Joe groans, "Come on, dude. We gotta go."

Pete shushes his aggravated friend, and says to Patrick, grinning: "Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?"

"Oh God, you used a pick up line, Wentz?!" Joe asks.

"Well, I fell into your arms," Patrick returns. This is by far the greatest thing he has ever said in his entire life.

Pete's face lights up. "You're perfect."

As Joe drags Patrick down the street, muttering about Pete or how much his feet hurt, Patrick smiles to himself, the taste of Pete still on his lips. Joe may think pick up lines are cheesy and stupid, but, to Patrick, they're sort of...endearing.

 


	2. Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eh, so I wrote this today. Yep. I couldn't resist.

_"Pete," Patrick moans, biting his plump bottom lip. Pete thrusts up into him, somewhat erratically._

_"Holy fuck."_

_Pete is coming, he knows it, and Patrick knows it, too. Patrick pulls Pete down into a kiss. The boy pulls back, gives Pete a look, and it's too much. It's--_

"PETE! Oh my God get the fuck up!!! I could hear you moaning from down the hall! PETE."

Pete Wentz wakes up in an unfamiliar place, which he then remembers is his friend Andy's house. He has a headache, his mouth tastes awful, and..

"Fuck, dude. Sorry!"

It's the fifth night in a row that Pete has had some kind of embarrassing wet dream about Patrick, the kid he met, well, five days ago at an Arma show. Pete didn't know what to expect; it was definitely not this. He did think the kid was hot; he was even considering fucking him, if Joe hadn't cockblocked him. It was probably better for Patrick that Joe interrupted them. Pete really liked Patrick, and he really did want to date him, but this was just ridiculous.

"Just...get rid of the damn thing. And not on my couch! Go, like, in the shower. Make sure to clean the floor when you're done," says Andy, who's covering his eyes with his hand.

"Fine."

"I'm going to Starbucks. Do you want anything?"

"The usual."

Pete wraps the blanket around his waist, trying to hide his hard-on like he did in middle school that one time. Andy walks into the kitchen and out the door, leaving Pete to take care of business.

He's annoyed, tired, and horny as he steps into the warm shower. It only takes a few jerks and a passing thought about Patrick's soft lips on his and he's spilling onto the bathtub floor. Just like Andy asked him to, Pete makes sure that the floor is sanitized after he washes himself off and calms down.

Andy is still gone as Pete wanders through the apartment, looking for his phone. He needs to call Patrick _now._

Pete eventually finds his phone in between the couch cushions. He will occasionally crash on Andy's couch when they're hanging out and he doesn't feel like going home, so this is typical. What's not typical is the way his stomach flips ever so slightly when he calls Patrick, or how nervous he feels as Patrick picks up.

"Hello?" says a boy's voice. He sounds so cute, and Pete smiles.

"Hey, Patrick. It's Pete."

"Pete! Hey. What's up?"

Pete blushes, something he hasn't done in years. "Nothin'. Just woke up and took a shower. Nothing special." _God that sounded so lame._

"Oh," Patrick replies. "That sounds nice. I've just been hanging around my house today."

"Are you busy tonight? 'Cause I was wondering if you wanted to, y'know...go out? On a date?"

"Sure," the boy says. "I'd love to. Where do you want to go?"

Pete straightens the strings on his hoodie and thinks. "Um...what about this cool coffee house I know? They've always got some good live music. Unless you want to do something else. I don't really mind."

"No, no, that sounds great. Do you want me to meet you there, or..?"

"I can just give you the address. Is that cool?"

Patrick agrees, and Pete gives him the address of the place. It turns out that Patrick has been there before. It gives Pete some sense that they are meant to be. Either that or the coffee house is more popular than he thought.

They hang up, and Pete is happy that he may be able to calm the wet dreams from this. No, he's not really planning to have sex with him (Patrick's barely 17 and Pete really doesn't feel like dealing with angry parents...after all, he is 23), but he just wants to be able to touch him, just be with him and maybe deal with some of the frustration.

It's one o'clock by the time Andy gets back with coffee and a pizza. Pete decides, as he eats his fifth slice, that he has good taste in friends.

As he tells Andy all about Patrick, Andy is silently chewing on a crust.

"Well, he's not the youngest you've dated."

Pete glares,"Can you not bring that up, please? I can't help it. You should see this kid, dude. He's.."

"Perfect? Fuckable? Hot? I'm pretty sure I get the idea."

"Andy.." he trails off, trying to find the rest of his sentence in the mess of his head. "Do you..think I'm obsessive?"

Andy doesn't hesitate. "Yes. Well, you can be sometimes, when you really like someone. If you like the kid, go for it. Er, well, you already have, so good luck."

Pete sighs. The self-deprecation has begun. "He'll think I'm a stalker."

"He's probably not as paranoid or cynical as you are; he'll just think you're like him a lot or some shit, 's long as you don't come on too strong."

Andy knows the drill: Just tell Pete part what he wants to hear, part the truth, and let Pete separate truth from fluff. It works, for the most part, and Pete always ends up happy. As happy as one Pete Wentz can be, anyways.

After lunch, Pete leaves Andy's place and goes to his own apartment. He does laundry, scribbles down some lyrics. Pete then spends a gross amount of time flat ironing his red and black hair, doing his eyeliner, and digging through his closet to find something to wear, even though his clothes are essentially the same. He settles on a too-tight t shirt that reads 'Kiss Me, I'm Straightedge'. Pete hopes that Patrick doesn't think it's too cheesy, that maybe Patrick'll even kiss him because of it.

Pete kneads the steering wheel with his hands the whole ride over to the coffee shop. He's supposed to meet Patrick at 7:30, and right know it's 7:40. Pete feels like such a dick, and he hopes Patrick doesn't mind that he's a bit late.

It's 7:45 when Pete gets there, and he all but runs into the building.

He spots Patrick sitting at a table near the little stage they have, tapping his fingers on the table. His disposition makes Pete feel terrible. Although, when Patrick sees him, the agitated look is replaced with a smile. All is forgiven, Pete assumes.

"Hey," Pete says, smiling at his date as he sits down across from him.

Patrick must've just gotten here; his nose is pink at the end, and his fingers are cold as his hand grazes Pete's.

"Hey," repeats Patrick. He's wearing glasses tonight. They're black with thick rims, and Pete falls a bit harder for him, much to his surprise.

Guys like Patrick normally aren't Pete's type. Sure he's young, but Pete likes skinny, tall, emo guys. The guys with piercings that talk too much about subjects Pete didn't give two shits about, but their lip rings were always kinda cool to play with with his tongue. Those guys were normally douche bags. Either that or they were just "exploring their sexuality" (which basically meant they were just making out with dudes to look cool). Patrick was nothing like this, and it was a little more than refreshing.

"I like your glasses."

Patrick's blue-grey-green eyes go wide. "Really? I don't like to wear glasses too often; I think they look bad."

Pete shook his head. "Nah, they look adorable."

"Thanks." Patrick blushes, and Pete reminds himself to get Patrick to do that as often as humanly possible.

"So..do you want some coffee? I'll buy it for you."

"No, no, you don't have to do that. I can pay for it," the younger boy stammers.

Pete rolls his eyes, grabs Patrick out of his seat and into the line. It'll take at least five or ten minutes. _There must be a good band here tonight._ Pete thinks.

"'Kiss Me, I'm Straightedge'," Patrick reads, then giggles. "That's funny."

Pete sees a golden opportunity right in front of him. "You gotta do what the shirt says, Stump. It's a rule."

Patrick scoffs. "Where is that a rule?"

"Dunno."

Regardless of Pete's dumbassery, Patrick grabs him by the shirt and kisses him anyways. His lips seem even softer than what they felt like the first night. The people in the coffee house are staring, they both know it. It feels like an eternity from when Patrick grabbed Pete to when he pulled away, breathless. In reality, it was about 6 or 7 seconds. Pete grins, and Patrick blushes. He's a bit flustered.

"What?" Pete asks as Patrick kneads his hands in the anxiety that looks so familiar to Pete.

"I just...feel like it's going too fast. I don't want to sound like a total dick, even though I totally am, but, like, I dunno."

Pete is relieved; for a second he thought it was something more serious. "You're worried about being slut shamed. Don't worry; you're not a slut and I'm not just going to fuck you and walk away. That shit's fucked up."

Patrick mirrors Pete's relief from a couple of seconds. "Okay. Well, I always hear people at school telling stories about who fucked who last weekend, and there could always be that chance of the story getting out that Patrick Stump, the biggest loser ever, made out with Pete Wentz. You're, like, famous at my high school. Sorry if I'm babbling--"

"No, it's okay. I like the sound of your voice, anyways."

Surprisingly enough, Pete actually pays attention to what Patrick has to say. He's an interesting kid with some cool viewpoints, even though some of them could be different. Pete didn't want to bring up politics on the second date, though (Yes, second. Pete counts the night at the show as their first date). Patrick and Pete are laughing over cold cups of coffee, not paying any attention to the band that's playing. It's getting late, and Pete knows it's probably time to go.

"Do you want to go on and go? It's getting late, and I don't want you to get in trouble because of me."

Patrick sighs. "Okay. I wish I didn't have to, though. I really like you, Pete."

"I really like you, too, Patrick."

They grin at each other, and then Pete graciously buys each of them a hot cup of coffee. Patrick protests, says he doesn't have to, but Pete insists. They leave the coffee shop, and instead of going to their cars like they planned, Pete and Patrick sit on a bench in the park together.

Patrick is curled into Pete's side, and Pete's got an arm around him. Night is falling, and the two take in the cool, early summer air and the final rays of the sun setting in the west. It's too perfect. Pete pats himself on the back mentally for choosing a good date.

"It's so pretty out here," Patrick says. It's sudden, and it fills the silence nicely.

Pete replies, "Not as pretty as you." and Patrick laughs.

"You're unbelievable."

"You're an angel."

Patrick rolls his eyes, but giggles at the memory of Pete and his fucking pick up lines. They are both more relaxed now, and Pete's glad.

"Y'know what I like about you, Patrick?"

"What?" His voice sounds shy again.

Pete grins. "You're not like everyone else I've ever dated. You not a total dick, and you're also smart. And you're not a tease."

The high schooler raises his eyebrows in questioning. "I'm not a tease?"

"Nope."

"You shouldn't have said that, because now I'm going to be a tease just to prove you're wrong."

"Try me."

Pete is really holding back on not tossing the cup of coffee out of Patrick's hands and basically molesting him. He tries to be a gentleman and be patient, but five days of waking up with a hard-on because of the 17 year old sitting next to him gives him some incentive to hurry it up.

Patrick makes the first move in to kiss Pete, who reacts eagerly. Patrick tastes like coffee and peppermint. The younger boy licks into his mouth, not as shy as he was back in the coffee house. Maybe it was all the people that were around. But that wouldn't explain the first time they made out... Pete's train of irrelevant thought is interrupted when Patrick takes his lips off of Pete's and places them on his tanned neck instead. The dreams that Pete had were all dirty and hot, but those are nothing compared to the sounds that come out of Patrick's mouth. It's gold, and Pete needs to get this shit recorded.

Just as it's getting really good, just like last time, Patrick pulls away and stands up. This time, it's not because of Joe Trohman, The Ultimate Cockblocker. It's because of Pete and his comment and Patrick and his urge to prove him wrong. Pete smacks himself.

"Patriiick," Pete moans. "Doon't."

Patrick shrugs. "I gotta go. Curfew, yeah? I'll call you. Good night, Pete."

He gives Pete a kiss again before walking off. Pete considers going after him, dipping him low to the ground and kissing him forever. But, no, then Patrick would just make it worse.

That night, Pete has no wet dreams, thank God. However, he does have a dream about Joe not letting him ride something (it was either a horse or a roller coaster, he couldn't remember). If that's not an innuendo, then Pete can sing just as well as Patrick can.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> first time writing full-on smut, and i'm glad to say this is the first project i've started i've actually finished! *sings sweet victory way too loudly for this time of night*

School is really a horrible thing. Without school, life would probably be perfect. As perfect as Patrick’s life can be, anyways, which is far from the meaning of the word.

But Patrick has Pete now. Pete’s pretty close to perfection, except his knack for having a Napoleon complex sometimes… and his manic fits. Oh, and his stalking.

Somehow, Pete had contacted Patrick’s mother, told her that he was picking up Patrick for imaginary band practice after school, and Patrick’s mother was completely okay with it. Patrick had told his mom Pete and he were friends, so that might’ve done something. 

Patrick walks out of the school building and down the street to where his mother normally picks him up. Instead of finding her SUV waiting, he sees Pete’s crappy car and Pete himself sticking out of the sunroof, a giant grin on his face. He waves at Patrick, who looks to see if anyone else is paying attention. There’s only a group of tittering freshman girls walking past now, too lost in their own world to notice Patrick.

“Hi, Patrick!” Pete calls, waving. His firetruck red and raven hair is hanging in his face like always. He needs a haircut, Patrick thinks absently. He’s got one of Patrick’s t shirts on, which of course he wears better than Patrick could ever hope for. 

“Hey, Pete. Uh…so where’s my mom?”

Pete shrugs. “I think she said she’s at work and has to go to dinner tonight or something, so I’m gonna pick you up!”

“Yeah, uh, she’s got a thing until 9, I think.” Patrick really needs to study for his math test, but he suspects the heavy book won’t even come out of his backpack tonight if he knows anything about Pete at all.

“Why didn’t you tell me? I mean, doesn’t matter now, but it’s the principle of the thing--"

Patrick raises his eyebrows higher than they already are as he looks up at his, ahem, boyfriend.

“I have a math test to study for. I’m 3 points from a B, so it’s kind of a big deal.”

Pete leers down at Patrick. “I can help you study.”

The younger kid snorts. “Seriously, I need to study, not to be fucked over a desk.”

“Bringing the conversation to sex so soon, huh?” 

Patrick narrows his eyes at Pete, only half mockingly. “I’m just that in tune with you.”

“But, really, I can help you study. It’ll be fun. What kind of math is it?”

“Trig.” Patrick giggles at the look of uncertainty that flashes across Pete’s tan face.

“Yeah, I can do that. It’s been a few years, though, just warning you.”

Pete slips back into the car and sits in the driver’s seat. The high schooler takes it as a cue that they’re leaving, and he goes to the other side of the car and gets in.

“Aw, yeah, now I got my sweet ride and my hot boyfriend. What could possibly go wrong?”

Patrick opens his mouth to speak, but Pete covers his mouth with his hand. 

“Shh. Don’t speak.” 

Instead of griping or growling like Pete probably expects him to, Patrick licks Pete’s hand. It tastes like salt and possibly weed, not that Patrick’s ever tried it. He just knows it from when Joe smokes it. Pete pulls his hand away.

“Patrick! Nasty!” Pete laughs, rubbing his palm on his jeans. 

“So is that how you’d react if I did that to your dick? Because I was under the impression you like it when I lick you.”

The smile leaves Pete’s face and his eyes widen. “Uh…well, uh..”

“That’s what I thought. Now, drive. I’ve been here for 8 hours and I really don’t want to stay any longer.”

+++++++++++++=+++++++++++++++++++=+++++++++++++++=++++++++++  
”No, no, no! That triangle’s SAS!”

”Pete, I’ve been doing this for the past 2 weeks. You haven’t done this in years. I think I know what I’m doing. Its ASA.”

Pete loves to argue with Patrick, mostly because Patrick gets adorable when he’s pissed off. They’ve been studying for the past hour. Thankfully, Patrick is almost done, because its tiring for Pete to pretend like he knows what the hell he’s doing. Plus he can’t stop staring at the strip of skin showing from where Patrick’s too-small black shirt is riding up.

"SAS.”

Patrick glares at Pete, who’s standing behind him, his head right next to Patrick’s as they bicker.

”ASA. I’ll be right back. Gonna go get a drink.”

Pete grins at Patrick’s retreating figure and runs after him. “More like ASS,” Pete laughs at his own joke, putting a hand in each of Patrick’s back pockets.

”I should’ve known that was coming,” Patrick giggles in spite of his annoyance with Pete. “Are you hungry? My mom gave me $20 this morning for dinner.”

“Are you?”

Patrick shrugs as he gets a glass out. “Not really. You?”

“I’m whatever you want me to be.”

“Is that a promise?” asks Patrick, eyes wide and innocent as he turns and faces Pete. Pete presses Patrick up against the fridge. 

“Depends.”

“On what?”

The house is so quiet that Pete could hear the air conditioning firing up. The mood change is rapid, tangible. 

“Depends on what you want me to be,” Pete says in a low voice, pressing his forehead to Patrick’s. He goes cross eyed looking at Patrick, whose mouth is open slightly, eyes wider. Patrick puts his empty glass on the countertop next to the fridge, not moving his gaze from Pete.

They stand there for minutes, maybe, standing nose to nose, Patrick’s fingers brushing Pete’s hips as he plays with the hem of Pete’s shirt. It’s calming, but the fact that Patrick’s gorgeous mouth is about 3 inches from his own drives Pete insane. 

“So, what do you want me to be?” Pete asks, his lips centimeters away from the boy that has him tied around his little finger.

Patrick thinks for a second. “If I say it out loud I’ll sound like a sixteen year old girl.”

“Well, you kind of are still in high school.”

“My first.” Patrick breathes. Even though his voice is barely audible, it seems to reverberate through the house.

“Your first what?” Pete wonders stupidly.

“Ugh..you know, my first…like, as in sex.”

Pete isn’t a pervert, but when he hears the word ‘sex’ tumble from Patrick’s pink lips he perks up ever so slightly.

“Sex?” Pete repeats. His mouth feels dry.

“Uh, yeah. I mean, if that’s okay with you.”

“Are you kidding me? I’ve had dreams about you since the first night we met. You kinda get me really worked up.”

Patrick blushes a rosy pink that should be illegal. “I do?”

“Oh fuck yeah,” Pete replies, rubbing his hips against Patrick for emphasis. Patrick giggles, nudges back. 

Finally, oh finally, their lips meet for the first time that day, and for Pete, its the best feeling in the world. He pushes Patrick’s head back against the cold metal of the refrigerator as he sticks his tongue into Patrick’s mouth, licking slowly across the roof. Patrick grapples for Pete’s shirt and grips it in his fists, yanking his boyfriend closer. It makes Pete dizzy and his already-tight jeans feel like they’re shrinking when Patrick presses his thigh in between Pete’s legs.

Patrick moves away to breathe and Pete’s mouth chases after his.

“Pete,” Patrick says, sounding like he’s just run a mile. “I need to breathe.”

“I missed you.”

Pete feels accomplished as Patrick nuzzles his neck. “Normally, if someone said that to me I’d be sick, but coming from you it’s actually really fucking cute.”

“Thanks, I guess?” 

“You’re welcome.” Patrick’s hand goes from Pete’s hips to his lower back, down to cup his ass, and down a little more to rub his thigh. Oh yeah, Pete’s pants are definitely getting tighter.

“So, now?” Pete wants to clarify. He doesn’t want to get all hot and bothered for nothing, and right now he really wants to rip Patrick’s clothing off and fuck him silly.

“Huh?”

“You. Me. No clothes. Now?”

“Whatever you want, Tarzan,” Patrick snorts. Pete doesn’t get it at first, which makes Patrick laugh even harder.

“Alright, alright. Very funny. Now let’s go upstairs so I can do very naughty things to you.”

“Like what?”

Pete’s really not one for talking dirty, unless it’s over the phone. He prefers showing to telling. Besides, he can be tongue-tied when it comes to Patrick, so he won’t be on his game.

He tells Patrick this. “Well, isn’t that the same thing? Don’t you have to think about what you’re going to do before you actually do it?”

“I’m Pete Wentz. I never think about things before I do them. Except you. I’ve thought about you before I’ve done you.”

Patrick chuckles. “You’re so lame.”

They kiss again, just a soft, wet kiss that does things to Pete that he wouldn’t ever feel otherwise. He can feel Patrick hardening underneath him. It’s something that he’s been wanting to feel for weeks, and now he finally can. 

“Pete.” It’s not a question, and the sound of Patrick’s sweet voice just saying his name for no particular reason makes Pete’s chest swell.

“C’mon, let’s go to your room,” whispers Pete, placing soft pecks on Patrick’s face. The strawberry blonde nods, but yelps in surprise when Pete picks him up bridal-style and starts to carry him upstairs. 

“How can you carry me?! I’m too…round.”

“So you’re a bit curvy. No big deal.” It’s really not a big deal; Pete’s stronger than he looks, and Patrick isn’t as chubby as he thinks he is. Pete can handle a few extra pounds for the reward of running his hands up and down Patrick’s curvy figure. Just thinking about it makes his head swim.

They finally get to Patrick’s bedroom. It’s a small room, but the bed is big enough to fit both of them comfortably. He places Patrick gently on the mattress and crawls on top of him. They resume their heated kisses. Patrick gets a little adventurous, starts to move down Pete’s neck and place wet pecks there. Pete groans, pawing at Patrick’s covered back. He can’t take being fully clothed with his boyfriend anymore.

Pete takes pride in how swollen and pink Patrick’s mouth is as he moves away to take Patrick’s shirt off. Contrary to what Pete expects, Patrick doesn’t complain when Pete peels the damp tee off. He’s beautiful, even more beautiful than Pete ever imagined. Then, Patrick removes Pete’s shirt, marveling at his chest. Pete tries very hard not to be showy, but he can’t help it. This is Patrick, after all, and Pete likes to show off for him. Always. He puts on his best smile and says in his self-declared sex voice:

“Wanna see more?” 

“Uh huh.”

He wastes no time in taking his jeans and boxers off. Patrick’s eyes widen at the now-naked Pete that is in front of him, taking in entire body, blushing scarlet when his eyes sweep past Pete’s hard-on.

“It’s okay to look,” Pete grins. “I wanna see you, too. Is that okay?”

"Uh huh.”

He takes the rest of Patrick’s clothes off, and marvels at the pale flesh of his thighs before taking Patrick into his mouth. Patrick stiffens, but makes a guttural moan when Pete sucks him gently.

“P-Pete,” he stutters. Pete knows Patrick won’t last too long now, and that he probably doesn’t have any lube or condoms, so he just sticks to sucking Patrick off, admiring the little noises spilling from his pretty mouth.

Patrick’s hips buck up more than once. Luckily, Pete knows how to not choke, but he still holds Patrick down with both of his hands so the chances of him gagging are greatly reduced. Patrick whimpers when Pete carefully puts him all the way into his mouth, then starts to bob his head. Hesitant, the younger boy places a hand in his boyfriend’s hair. Pete nods encouragingly, his head bobbing faster now. 

The noises Patrick is making become increasingly breathy, and it’s really fucking hot. Pete takes his mouth off of Patrick with a sickening ‘pop’. Patrick begins to complain, but Pete rubs his cock against Patrick’s thigh, and heat enters Patrick’s face again.

“You don’t have lube by any chance, do you?”

Patrick opens the nightstand drawer next to his bed and pulls out a brand new bottle. “Just got it last week," he explains sheepishly.

“Condoms?”

Patrick shakes his head. “I wasn’t sure if we needed them or not, since I really can’t get pregnant…”

“Well, we don’t have to have them. No worries, cutie.” Pete winks at Patrick as he squirts lube on his fingers and rubs two against Patrick. He tenses again.

“Shh,” Pete murmurs. “It’s okay…you just need to relax.” 

Patrick does, and Pete fits one finger, then two, inside of Patrick. It’s more than a little painful for Patrick, who clings to Pete, trying to distract himself from the extreme discomfort by kissing Pete. It works a little bit.

“Relaxrelaxrelax,” Pete chants near Patrick’s mouth. He slips in a third finger, and it feels better than the first two. After about a minute or so, Pete slides his fingers out and puts lube on his dick, then kisses Patrick’s stomach before sliding into Patrick. It's a different feeling, and Patrick squirms.

"Pete," he says in a breathy tone that catches Pete off guard. He pushes in a little further when Patrick says no more. 

It's uncomfortable for Patrick, like his body is rejecting Pete. After a minute or so, he adjusts, and it's not as bad as it was before. It actually...feels good, even. 

Pete is just holding on. His patience is wearing thin, and he is using all of his will power not to move as fast and as hard as he can possibly do. But, no, he must be gentle. This is Patrick, and he can't hurt him.

"Faster," Patrick breathes, fluttering his eyelids shut. Pete does so, very willingly, and Patrick moans when Pete hits a spot that makes sparks appear behind Patrick's eyes, and his lids fly open to look at Pete. 

Pete rolls his hips, trying to go as deep as possible without hurting Patrick. He tries to hit the same spot as before, but it takes him a few tries before Patrick mewls, grabbing Pete's biceps and squeezing.

The room is hotter than it was minutes before. Patrick sweats easily, so a thin sheen of sweat is dampening his lower back, his thighs, and his face has been at a constant blush since the kitchen, so he's sweating there, too. It's embarrassing, always has been, but Pete seems to be just as sweaty as he is, and Pete's not complaining, so Patrick says nothing. Pete seems to know that he's thinking too much, so he thrusts the same sweet spot three times in a row, making Patrick moan loudly. Pete's breath is coming faster, his thrusts harder, and Patrick grabs his head and pulls him down into a wet kiss. 

"You're so beautiful like this," Pete says as he pulls back,brushing the hair out of Patrick's face. Patrick nods. 

"So are you."

"So fucking hot..you wanted me to be your first." Pete, bracing Patrick's hips, thrusts on every third word. The boy beneath him moans so loud that he almost can't hear what Pete's saying.

"Pete," Patrick squeals. The familiar feeling in his stomach is growing, and he kisses Pete again.

Pete is thrusting erratically, grunting and breathing heavily. Patrick starts to move his hips, trying to meeet his downward movements to his boyfriend's upper ones. It takes a few tries, but eventually they get a rythm. They met movements twice before Patrick comes, loud and breathy and shaking, onto Pete's and his stomachs. Pete comes soon after, making low, guttural noises that Patrick can't get enough of. He collapses onto Patrick, his arms gelatin.

"Hey, d'you mind moving? I can't breathe."

Pete obliges. " 'M sorry, Trick."

"It's okay, baby."

The bass player giggles, a noise that, for Patrick, sounds strange. This, after all, is still the angry, screaming, albeit attractive frontman of Arma Angelus that hit on him after a show. Now they're sleeping together, and Patrick has Pete tied around his little finger. He still doesn't believe it's really happening all the time, but looking up at Pete, who is as sweaty now as he was when they met, who looks back at him like he's the best thing in the world, he likes to know that its real.

"Still an angel," Pete whispers to Patrick, kissing the soft skin behind his ear. Patrick nuzzles Pete. He can definitely get used to this.


End file.
